The Multi-Fandom Advantage
by TudorRose1455
Summary: "Caring is not an advantage", especially when you don't know which story character is going to betray you next. It's hard enough handling the emotional trauma of Doctor Who, the Avengers, Once Upon A Time, Supernatural, and Sherlock. Who is the survive when all and more come together? Mild language.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock could taste the blood. The pain pounded throughout his body: Mild concussion, sprained wrist, and an overwhelming smell of—forest?

He sat up carefully, checking for more serious injuries. What the devil was he doing in a forest? He hadn't seen trees so large in such a long time. They old, impossibly old for England.

A bird landed beside him, chirped once, and pecked at the aglet of his shoelace.

He waved his hand, and the bird flew away.

"John?" He stood and brushed his coat off. Nothing seemed too badly injured. He turned to the bird who continued to stare at him, head cocked and bright eyes studying him. He took a step towards it.

The bird flew away but only as far as the next tree. Its red waistcoat gleamed in the sunshine.

Sunshine.

It had been one of the biggest rain and wind storms of the century in London.

Sherlock reached for a heavy branch lying near his feet. What was the quip so many people made? Something about Kansas. As far as he remembered from his parents' holiday snaps, this was most definitely not Kansas.

Donna folded her arms and leaned against the TARDIS console. "What are you thinking about? You haven't made a smart remark nearly all day."

"I'm thinking." Ten sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "Did you make candy apples?"

"Why would I make candy apples? You know my cooking abilities. I'd love some, tho, if this machine of yours has developed a Mrs Potts' temperament."

"The TARDIS is running a diagnostic of recent honey samples. We're testing for stress in the bees' behaviour. Similar to how a chicken's egg will taste bitter or the milk of a female mammal—"

"What do you know of food? Do you ever eat?" Donna lifted her nose and sniffed. "It doesn't smell like candy apples. Smells more like sugar biscuits."

"It is most definitely candy apples," said the Doctor. "Galadria III found a way to make the cinnamon and caramel complement each other perfectly. We should go there."

"Once the TARDIS is done analysing the honey? Sounds perfect. We'll just wait on the honey."

The TARDIS gave a deep groan, and Ten put on his stethoscope. "Hold on, dear. What's that?" He pressed the 'scope to the console. "Speak to me, darling. Oh, that's not good." He whipped the 'scope out of his ears. "Hold on tight to something!"

"What do you mean? Are you speaking Scottish again?"

The TARDIS lurched horribly.

"She's wheezing and groaning like my mum in a good rant," shouted Donna, holding tightly to the console.

"Don't ever insult her that way again! We'll be lucky if she isn't torn to pieces from this!" Ten kicked a switch on the console. "Blast; hang on."

Romanoff braced herself as she dropped into the water. She heard the guns firing and braced for them to hit her skin. The water was warmed than she expected. She opened her eyes and saw a warm, green light overhead.

She swam to the surface and took a deep breath, her hair plastered to her head. This was not Cozumel. Green trees and a warm sun looked down at her.

She pushed for the bank and pulled ashore, only to laugh. Her slinky black evening gown with the ornamental black widow belt wouldn't do any good in the forest. Where to find real clothes, tho?

She crouched into a defensive position at the sound of someone barging through the forest. It sounded like Banner in the kitchen after an episode.

A thin man with a black coat and suit ran past her. He was following a robin, which was progressing at a decent rate. A story niggled at the back of her mind—the Snow Queen and four children?

She shook her head and stepped out from behind the tree.

But the man was gone. He'd vanished into the greenness of the world.

Someone stepped on a branch, and Romanoff grabbed the arm holding the gun and threw the woman over her head. The black heels were good for something as she dug them into the blonde woman's throat. "Who are you?"

"Emma Swan," grunted the woman. She wore a stocking cap over her long braids. "I have no idea where we are or how we got here."

"We can only assume to blame Rumpelstiltskin for this one, love," said a man's voice. "The least he could have done was thrown in a case of rum if this is his idea of a wedding present."

Romanoff looked over her shoulder and saw a man who oozed Irish charm. He also had a hook instead of a hand. Never a good sign. She looked back to the woman. "Rumpelstiltskin? The fairy tale character?"

"Fairy tales?" The man laughed. "You're currently holding the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming at shoe point."

"Fairy tales are for children," said Romanoff. But she helped Emma stand up. "Sorry about that."

"Not the first time Rumpel's caused problems. I'm used to it." Emma pulled her phone from her pocket. "No service. Shit. Where'd he send up this time? Look familiar, Hook?"

"Not at all. It's not Wonderland, thank goodness, and it's not the Enchanted Forest. Not our Enchanted Forest." He ran his hand along the trees. "These trees have seen their fair share of magic. Something older than Rumpel, maybe. Regina would've been able to tell us."

"Regina's not here." Emma pulled the gun from her holster and aimed it over Hook's shoulder. "Identify yourself."

Two tall men in leather jacket and desperate need of haircuts stepped out from the trees. Both carried shotguns over their shoulders. "I'm Dean," said one. "This is my brother Sam. Why don't you put your gun down and we can talk?"

"Fat chance of that," said Emma.

"I'm with her," said Romanoff, pulling the pistol from beneath her dress.

"That's some crazy shit right there," said Sam. "What are you, some kind of super spy?"

"Something of the kind," said Romanoff.

"So who wants to ask the question?" said Hook.

Everyone looked at him.

"Where the hell are we?" said the pirate. "I'm sure everyone has someone to blame."

"Gabriel," said Sam.

"Loki," said Romanoff.

A noise startled them all. A sound like a piano string being rubbed with a key echoed throughout the wood, and a blue box appeared.

The door opened and a skinny man with brilliant hair stepped out. "Hello, everyone," he said, grinning. He took a deep breath of the air. "Earth like but not Earth. Donna!"

A red-haired woman tumbled out. "My God, it stinks in there."

The TARDIS made a weird metallic noise.

"You might want to have that checked out," said Dean. "Sounds like the carburettor's about to go."

"She doesn't have one," said the Doctor, finally noticing everyone. "Oh, are we having a show down? I love show downs."

"Really?" said Donna.

"No." The smile disappeared from his face and he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm the Doctor, and this is Donna Noble. We were flying through all of time and space and if I wanted to hit Show Down at the O.K. Corral, I would've made sure to let Sheriff Earp know in advance, not some knock-offs with various states of disarray."

"I'm just here by mistake," said Hook, holding up his hand and hook apologetically. "Sounds like what we need is sit down and figure this all out, preferably over a drink."

"It's too early to drink," said Donna. "What sort of planet are you from?"

"All of time and space, and you think it's too early to drink? You're the alien, love."

Donna gasped. "Of all the stupid—"

"Ignore him," said Emma. "He's recovering from a hangover."

"Getting jerked out of my own world again might have something to do with the headache," said Hook. "By the way, I don't think I properly introduced myself. Captain Hook of the _Jolly Roger_."

"What?" said the Doctor. "Impossible."

"Only impossible if you keep a closed mind," said Hook. "I think you're the only one who hasn't introduced herself, Red."

Romanoff continued to study the two men before realizing her was addressing her. "Natasha Romanoff. So what's this about an Enchanted Forest?"


	2. Chapter 2

"More like the Wood Between the Worlds," said Donna.

"Ooh, that's good," said the Doctor.

"I meant it as a joke," she said. "It's too quiet. Shouldn't there be animals and noises? All I can hear is us and the stupid river."

"What's this 'Wood Between the Worlds'?" said Sam.

"It's from a children's book. Nothing worthwhile. It's real. Is it real?" She looked at the Doctor. "No! No, tell me it's not real."

"Well, it's not Fairy Land. The air's wrong."

"Something I can agree with you about," said Hook. "I'd like to see the Crocodile try his magic here. I bet he'd be as lost as the rest of us."

The TARDIS wheezed and gasped. The Doctor looked behind him and started running. "No, no, no! No!" He ran right through the bent grass where she had just been resting. "Now it's personal."

"Doctor, tell me everything's all right," said Donna.

"Uh…" He scratched his head and looked about. "I mustn't tell lies, so, yes; things are very bad. I have no idea where we are and the TARDIS is gone and I am completely surrounded by idiots with guns."

The howl of a wolf echoed throughout the forest. The cocking of guns answered back.

"Werewolves," said Sam. "This is going to be fun."

"No werewolves," said a deep, accented voice. "Something far worse."

A thin man in a long black coat emerged from behind the trees. A man in an oatmeal coloured sweater, a gun in hand, rested against one of the trees.

"Sherlock Holmes and this is John Watson."

"You're kidding me," said Emma.

"Just what we need," said Romanoff, "another idiot in a long coat."

The Doctor put on his glasses and studied the man who claimed to be Holmes. "We have a small problem." He studied the man, leaning in closely and stepping back. "You're not Sherlock Holmes. The teeth are too nice and the hair isn't beaten into submission, and you're missing a couple of scars from your tangle with Jefferson Hope. Also, the real Sherlock Holmes would always let someone else introduce himself."

"No, pretty sure that's Sherlock Holmes," said Watson.

"And there's one more thing," said the Doctor. "The real Sherlock Holmes doesn't stink of Krillitane! I'd suggest making the eyes a little more authentic looking. You made the eyes a little too close." He took his glasses off. "It's all in the details."

Watson aimed his gun at the Doctor. "No one speaks to my friend that way."

Four guns faced Holmes and Watson.

Sherlock smiled and blinked. His eyes were completely black. "Well played, Doctor. The plans are only going to get trickier. You're going to need every trick each of you knows to escape from here alive. The thing is, you need me or none of you will survive."

"I've survived worse," said Romanoff.

"Pretty hard to beat Hell and back again," said Dean. "Now tell us who you really are."

Holmes rolled his eyes and laughed. Someone stepped out of the body and allowed it to fall to the ground.

Watson jumped back a good five feet. "Jeez—but you're dead!"

The dark haired man brushed off his dark-grey suit. "I'm so excited for this, our little game." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Jim Moriarty. Hi."

Eyes still black, Moriarty looked to Watson. "Did you miss me?" he whined before laughing. "No, all of you have been called here for a purpose. Summoned, really, is the word. The, uh, well, she calls herself 'Queen' brought you here for a purpose. And not to sing Bohemian Rhapsody. Here's the thing: one of you has to die or none of you will leave here."

"Sounds like the premise for a horror film," said Emma. "I think I saw that one."

Moriarty grinned. "Nothing so simple. Your biggest challenge is separating reality from illusion. We'll see to that."

Romanoff's body jerked as she fired a bullet at Moriarty.

Time seemed to slow as his body melted and disappeared. His smile was the last to vanish before the bullet struck a tree near Donna's head.

"The game is on," said Moriarty's disembodied voice.

"Either we're all mad here, or a man just stepped out of another's body and disappeared," said Donna.

"You'll get used to it," said Hook.

Emma crouched by Sherlock's body and felt for a pulse. "Thank God, he's still alive."

Watson jumped over and turned Sherlock over. "Sherlock. Sherlock!"

Holmes groaned and squinted, trying to see clearly. "I was following a bird."

"Have you been into drugs again?"

"It was a robin." Sherlock sat up quickly and cleared his throat. "Mild concussion and strains on the joints, but I believe I'm fine now, thank you. So has it been established where we are yet?"

Emma said, "How long was he listening?"

"Long enough to laugh at everyone's confusion." He looked at the assorted group.

"So what exactly is going on?" said Donna.

"Don't be stupid," said Sherlock. "Once you've eliminated the impossible, whatever is left must be the truth."

"Cross-dimensional jumps," said the Doctor.

"Exactly," said Sherlock.

Donna looked at the Doctor. "What?"

The Doctor continued to study Sherlock. "I haven't done those since I was a kid. Goodness, I haven't _seen_ you since you were a kid. We were all kids."

"What happened to the other two?"

"The Master went mad. Loki disappeared; couldn't find him after the fall of the Time Lords."

"As in Loki brother of Thor from Asgard and seen as a god?" said Romanoff.

"You've seen him?"

"Yeah, trying to lead an invasion to destroy Earth. Would've been handy to have you pulled from fiction since you try to defend the Earth."

"When was this?"

Romanoff gave him a date.

"Whoops," said the Doctor. "I think Shakespeare was flirting with me at that time. And trying to save the world from Carionites, which might be what let the Chiatauri through."

"Can multiple universes affect each other like that?" said Dean.

"No, yes, well…" The Doctor cocked his head and thought for a moment. "Okay, it's like when you're in the bathroom and the mirror fogs up. Got the image? Okay, now imagine that there is another person on the other side of the mirror and the fog is opening up the worlds through the mirrors."

"Really?"

"No, actually, it's nothing like that. Never mind."

"I think I know what you're talking about," said Emma. "Multiple universes or worlds moving essentially parallel to each other and—"

"Every once in a long while they touch," said Sam. "It makes sense."

"More like skimming the surface than actually touching," said the Doctor.

"I think you are all forgetting an important bit of information," said Watson. "We're supposed to kill someone before the end of the week, a concept which I don't think anyone is going to be too keen on."

"No need to make anyone any more depressed than we need to," said Emma. "We'll all get home."

"Not if this Moriarty and whoever he's working with have anything to do with it," said Hook.

"But which of us is actually going to die?" said the Doctor. "You two have the look of men who've shaken hands with Death, no offense, and no one's been able to effectively kill Sherlock. They pulled him back simply by faith." He chuckled. "And people refuse to believe in faith healing."

"And there's no killing you from what I remember," said Sherlock. "How many regenerations do you have left?"

"A handful," said the Doctor, looking at his right hand.

"Are you suggesting that we simply will ourselves home, Doctor Noble?" said Romanoff.

"Oh, we're not married," said the Doctor.

"Never ever," said Donna. "Ever."

"Right, then," said Hook. "I suggest we find some shelter. In case no one's noticed, no one has any form of transportation, and the sun is a good hour lower than it was when we all started this lovely chat." He bumped into one of the Winchester brothers' guns and nudged it aside with his hook. "Pardon me. I don't like it when the shadows get long."

"What did you say?" said the Doctor.

"The shadows are getting long." Hook stopped. "What is it?"

"'Count the shadows'," said Donna, staring at a dark spot by Hook's foot. "They followed us. How?"

"Not every shadow. Just any shadow." The Doctor removed his sonic screwdriver and buzzed it around.


	3. Chapter 3

"Captain, you're in luck. That is not a live shadow."

Hook released a breath. "Living shadow? Anything like Pan's shadow?"

Emma groaned, hands on her hips. "I thought we got rid of it for good."

"Whatever you've encountered, the Vashta Nerada are worse."

"Believe me, a shadow that kills by ripping your shadow from you isn't much fun either."

"These shadows strip you to the bone in less than a second. Saying that—"

"—it isn't pleasant is the best description we can put on it," said the Doctor. "They trip the flesh from your bones…"

Moriarty leaned over the screen and glowered at the people with him. "This is boring. All they do is talk."

"They're figuring it out; don't worry about it," said Jadis. "Humans are simple creatures."

"You're forgetting you claim to be human," said the Master, his mocking smile aimed at Jadis. He slouched in the wingback chair, feet on a stool, with his "Or have you renounced it?"

"There are ordinary, boring humans and there are humans actually worth spending time with. Like Sherlock," said Moriarty. His hands scrambled over the holographic table. "Seriously, how does this thing work? I want something to happen!"

"That's the problem with children these days," said Jadis with a sigh.

"You're calling me a child?"

The Master opened one eye. "Comparatively speaking, you have no room for debate with either of us."

"What's next? 'Go to your room'?"

"Not my line," said the Master. He sprang up from his chair and bounced over to the screen. "You are right about one thing: it is boring letting them discuss the situation and enlighten themselves. How about some of the more fearsome monsters the human imagination has ever encountered, something all creatures bear a natural abhorrence to."

The Master tapped codes into the screen and turned a couple of dials. "Jadis," he whipped about and bowed, "if you would do the honours."

She stood from her frosty throne and sauntered over to the screen. "Don't mind if I do." Her large hand slammed onto the button, cracking the console.

"What was that for?" cried the two men.

"You think in such three dimensional terms," she said, flicking her long, blonde braid over her shoulder. "Let them work their way through your magic, then I'll give them a nightmare they'll never forget." She sat back down in her icy throne and studied her well-trimmed nails. "As you were."

"What have we done?" whispered Moriarty.

"We're on the Devil's dance floor," said the Master. "I hope you brought the right shoes."

"Should've included the dress code in the invite." Moriarty pulled out his phone. "Still no service."

"Why would you want service when we have servants? There they go. Run for your lives, kiddies!"

"Carnivorous shadows," said the Doctor.

Emma did a double take at Romanoff's face. "No."

"What?"

"You cannot take them home with you."

"Might keep the guys from snooping around my things." Romanoff crouched down by a bush where the skeleton of a pathetically small paw peeped out. "Looks like some live ones might be over here."

The Doctor grabbed her and pulled her back from the edge. "These things have no mercy. All of you, into the light. Now."

"Donna, what's on your back?" said Emma. "What's behind you?"

The Doctor looked at Donna's back. "There's nothing."

"Behind you. Look behind you."

Everyone looked in the direction she pointed.

"There's nothing," said Hook. "Are you all right?"

"Damn it! I'm seeing something that looks straight out of Star Trek! Why don't you see it as soon as you turn around?" She blinked.

"What are you talking about?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were panicking about something behind us."

"No, I wasn't."

"Yes, you were," said the Doctor. "Sam, Dean, what's on your hands?"

Three black marks crossed their hands.

"No idea," said Sam.

"So," said Romanoff with a toss of her hair, "who wants to collect wood for a fire in the forest filled with carnivorous shadows?"

The Winchesters shrugged. "Can't get any worse than what we've seen," said Dean.

"I'm pretty sure it can," said Sherlock. "Logic states that whatever, whoever, is controlling this, is going to play off our fears. They know too much about us." He made a face.

"What is it?" said Watson.

"Something Mycroft told me." He shook his head, trying to clear the words from his head.

"'Caring is not an advantage'," said Donna.

"Exactly," said Sherlock. He did a double take. "How did you know?"

"My grandmum used to say it to me all the time. 'Don't listen to them, Donna; don't care about what they say; it's not to your advantage to take it to heart'." She wiped at her eyes and studied her fingers. "Glitter? What the hell is glitter doing in my eye?"

Emma glanced at the fingers. "Pixie dust."

"Looks more like stone dust," said Sherlock, looking over her shoulder. He reached for his lens.

"Ignore it, and get ready for the darkness," yelled the Doctor. "I'm not going to say it again."

Romanoff rolled her eyes and started collecting wood.

"Here, I'll help you," said Dean. "Is right here a good enough spot for a camp, Doctor?"

"It'll work."

"It never means anything good when you've got your jaw set like that," said Donna. "Hold on, Natasha. I'll help you."

"Arrogant bastard," muttered Hook, a bottle of rum in his hand.

"Which one?" said Emma, checking her supply of ammunition.

"The skinny one," said Hook, taking a swig.

"Which skinny one? There are two."

"The one in the long coat."

She looked over her shoulder at the group gathered about the fire. "You're going to be a little more specific. There are two of them. We should be thankful we only have two at this point. I've heard rumours about the two brothers."

"You've heard about us?" Dean appeared with an armful of wood and borrowed Hook's bottle of rum, taking a deep drink. "That's good stuff. Where'd you get it?"

"Found it hidden in the crotch of a tree," said Hook. "And I don't usually ask questions when a bottle of rum appears out of nowhere. Should, but I don't."

Emma cleared her throat. "Glad you two are bonding, but we have bigger issues than the sourcing of rum. I've heard rumours about you. Don't you usually have an idiot in a long coat that tags along with you?"

"Yeah, Cas." Dean took another drink. "Wait, aren't you a bounty hunter? Hey, Sammy! Got the Swan over here!"

"Who?"

"He must've been drunker than I thought when we ran into that one guy. Thanks, Hook." Dean clapped Hook on the shoulder and went back to the fire.

"Pleasant chap," said Hook, leaning against the tree. "But you were saying?"

"Apparently they usually have a third idiot in a long coat that tags along with them. Whatever brought them here kindly forgot the third."

"I think we have enough chaps in long coats at this time. I know imitation is supposed to be flattering, but there comes a time when too many men in long coats worries me."

A bell tinkled, soft yet filling everyone's ears.

"What's that?" said Donna.

"Nothing good," said Sam. "You okay? You're looking a little cold."

"I was expecting a day of shopping in New New New New New Dehli on Io. But somebody couldn't fly the flippin' TARDIS and landed us in a jungle."

Ten scratched his head. "She's a bit independent. Going through a rebellious streak at the moment." He sniffed and sniffed again. "Does anyone think the bell is getting louder?"

Instead of a delicate tinkle, the bell was becoming a roar until the ground shook.

It stopped.

Everyone looked around.

_Bong._

_Bong._

_Bong._

_Bong._

_Bong._

_Bong._

_Bong._

_Bong._

_Bong._

_Bong._

_Bong. _

The forest was completely silent.

"Eleven, the Christian number of disorder and chaos," said Sherlock. "If universes are truly breaking down, we've certainly plenty to go around."

"There's always trouble." Dean grabbed his gun and stood. "Everyone keep an eye out."

Romanoff pulled the pistol from her holster. "Does anyone smell something really sweet?"

The bushes rustled. Hook picked up a branch of dead wood and poked the dark leaves.

Something with massive teeth grabbed the branch and pulled it and Hook into the shadows.

"Hook!" screamed Emma.

Romanoff grabbed Emma by the arm. "No! We have to—"

The creature let up a howl.

"Run!" yelled the Doctor, grabbing the first hand he found.

Everyone scattered into the dark trees, forgetting the shadows, forgetting the fire, forgetting anything but getting away from the sharp teeth.

"This is more like it," said Moriarty, rubbing his hands together. "The hell hound was a good touch, Jadis."

"But?"

"Isn't killing one of them so early in the game going to defeat the point?"

"Who said anything about Fenris Ulf killing him? You seem to have forgotten my story, Mr Moriarty."

"Just Jim will do."

Her thin lips made a smile. "So informal and so quaint. And so much more to learn. Let's see which they enjoy more, heat or cold."


	4. Chapter 4

"You can let go of my hand now," said a woman's voice.

The Doctor skidded to a halt as he nearly fell off a precipice. "And not that way. But we seem to have lost them for now. So," he released her hand and shoved his hands in his own pockets. "Romanoff, right?"

"Natasha's good enough. What about you? Just 'The Doctor'? Any other alias I might know you by?"

"Someone called me Barty Crouch Jr. the other day. Haven't the faintest idea why."

Romanoff's lips twitched.

"What?"

"Nothing." She held up her hand and listened. An eagle burst from the trees with a scream.

Both the Doctor and the assassin jumped. Romanoff pulled her gun.

"Oh, come off it!" The Doctor gripped the gun the by the barrel and tried to pull it away. "Enough with the guns!"

"I only just got Fury to work this into the budget," she said, gritting her teeth. He was skinny, but he was also strong. "Shouldn't you be worrying about your friend? There's no way you could confuse the two of us, even in that chaos."

"I save people. Donna will be able to find me. She's very good at finding me. Something's been pulling us together for a very long time, connecting us."

"'Fate? Destiny? A horse?'"

The Doctor's face clouded over. "I haven't been riding since, oh, well—" He cleared his throat. "Anyways, we should keep moving. Hopefully we can find the others."

"The best option would be to find a layout of the surrounding areas and if there's any civilization. I don't want any more surprises."

"I have a feeling there are going to be plenty of surprises on their way." He ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking. "We also might see about getting you some decent clothes. Those don't look horribly comfortable let alone practical for traipsing through the woods."

Romanoff granted him a rare grin. "Finally, a man who sees sense when it comes to wardrobe choices."

"Oh, shut up!" bellowed Sherlock, turning and facing the red-haired woman following him. "I don't care about the trivialities of your life or whatever theories you may have concerning how we got here. Right now, there is a man more powerful than you'll ever be able to imagine trying to kill us, so will you please shut up!"

Donna ruffled her imaginary feathers. "Oh, you are in a proper sort, aren't you? Listen, sunshine, whatever you're upset about missing, you're not going to rain on my parade! It's a lovely forest. There are plenty of monsters but nothing the Doctor can't handle."

"The Doctor this, the Doctor that," mimicked Sherlock, making puppets of his hands. "Doctor Who?"

Donna gave him her biggest grin. "I see why he likes this so much. And haven't the faintest, so stick it in your pipe and smoke on it, Sherlock Holmes!" She laughed and smacked him on the arm. "Is that a path?"

Sherlock searched through his pockets, wondering if pilfering Mycroft's cigarettes had been such a terrible decision after all.

The woman, Donna, had gone very quiet. The entire forest was quiet, too quiet. "J—Donna?" he said in a low voice. He wondered where John was.

Something squeaked, and Sherlock looked down. A hedgehog was snuffling his shoe and making happy grunts.

Donna appeared from the trees. "Get over here!" she hissed in a stage whisper.

Coat billowing about him, Sherlock followed her. They were on a ledge overlooking what appeared to be a castle made entirely of ice. "Impossible."

"I think a castle made of ice is the last thing to be listed as impossible on a day like this." Donna grabbed his arm and pointed.

Tiny figures emerged from the castle.

"Those can't all be for us, can it?"

"It wouldn't be sporting if it was. It wouldn't be like Moriarty, either. He likes puzzles and intricate traps."

"Could someone else be in charge?" said Donna.

Sherlock snorted. "You know nothing about Moriarty. He's a spider at the centre of a web. The only way to control him is through death—" His jaw dropped as a thought danced through his head.

"What?"

"The only way to control him is through death and even then he refuses to co-operate." Sherlock tented his fingers, delving deeply into his mind palace.

"Oh, no! I know that look from the Doctor. We are not having a trip into the depths of your twisted mind. We haven't the time or safety. Come on, you long, skinny, streak of black coat."

Sherlock glared at her even as he obeyed.

The Winchesters grabbed the biggest tree branches they could lift and struck the wolf sharply over the head. It paused long enough to allow Hook to scramble away.

Sam drew his gun and shot the beast.

It laughed. "Do you really think bullets can stop me, Son of Adam?" It howled.

The hair stood up on the back of the men's necks as several other wolves answered.

"Please run; we've been cooped up for days and are desperate for a decent chase," said Fenris Ulf.

"We're not running," said Dean, unzipping the large duffel bag and pulling out a shotgun.

"Mate, never look a gift horse, or wolf, in the mouth. Especially when he's grinning at you," said Hook. Under his breath, he muttered, "I hate land."

A shrill whistle split the air, and the men covered their ears.

Fenris Ulf ran away whimpering, leaving paw prints larger than their hands.

Jadis stood up from her throne. "What was that for?"

"You have to give them a sporting chance," said the Master. "Sending a beast of such great destruction immediately in the game simply isn't fair. We must make the game interesting."

"They could have left the pirate to die. That would have satisfied the demands of the game and sent them all home immediately."

"But where is the fun in that?" The Master leaned against the console. "Could it be you grow impatient already?"

She folded her arms across her chest. "Strategy is important and so is adrenaline. None of us will survive this is we become too bored."

"Aw," crooned Moriarty, focussing on the screen, "bonding betwixt the males!" He fiddled with the dials. "Now, where has Sherlock disappeared to?"

"Your obsession with him a little worrying," said the Master. "It was risky taking Sherlock's body."

Moriarty grinned. "Don't worry your pretty blond head. Nobody ever gets to me. And no one ever will."

"To take possession of his body implies a dangerous level of fanaticism."

"I haven't the faintest idea of what you are talking about. Or should we look for this Doctor fellow? A bit skinny, but there's no accounting for taste."

"Skinny? Now I'm afraid you're the one who hasn't a leg to stand on."

Jadis sighed in frustration. It was going to be a long wait. Why hadn't she sent her protégé, the Green Lady, as her representative?

She glanced at a certain set of screens. Emma Swan and John Watson lay on the grass, unconscious. Red marks were forming on their foreheads from there they had head-butted in the panic. _Dull_.

Hook leaned against a tree, studying his boot. There were teeth marks, but it hasn't pierced the tough leather. "The man who walked out of Sherlock's body, the man in the jumper said he was dead."

"Moriarty, yeah," said Sam. "Obviously he's not."

"Or he's come back to life."

"People have a bad habit of doing that," said Dean. "I mean, it's nice for us, but not so convenient when your enemies don't stay dead."

"How many times have you died?"

"Your guess is as good as ours. What about you? Have you died before?"

"Not yet; I think. Granted, I've been evading Death's clutches for about two hundred years now, so who knows when he'll appear to collect."

"You look pretty good for being two centuries old." Dean self-consciously ran a hand over his hair.

"I wandered into Neverland." Hook rooted about for the bottle of rum and stuck it in one of his many pockets. "So where off to now? That had to be one of the shortest parties I've attended in many a good year."

"Nobody's died, though."

"Yet. You heard the conditions." Hook pulled out his compass. He flicked it when it didn't move. He turned slowly, watching the indicator. "Ruddy thing's not working."

"There must not be any polar regions," said Sam. "May I?"

Hook handed over the compass.

"Careful with that; she's seen me through many a trial."

"Looks like it."

"So, pick a direction, any direction?" said Dean, zipping up his portable arsenal.

"Looks like it," said Sam. "I think grandpa over here should lead."

"I may be far older than either of you combined," said Hook, "but I am set to marry the most beautiful woman in any of the realms and worlds in a few days." He turned about, looking at the ground. "That way."

"Why that way?"

"Because those are Emma's footprints. And you both have two more black marks on your hands."

"Fair enough."

Dean strapped the bag to his back, and the three set off into the green darkness.


End file.
